


Synchronization

by smarshtastic



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Blackwatch Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, M/M, Mission Fic, Partnership
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 09:54:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11228553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarshtastic/pseuds/smarshtastic
Summary: Together, they’re the very best Blackwatch has to offer. With Jesse, it’s a dance that comes easily, instinctively. They’ve worked side by side for years by now. The motions come to them as naturally as breathing. They don’t even have to think about it. If one of them loses the rhythm, the other improvises seamlessly, never skipping a beat.---In which Gabe and Jesse's instinctual coordination gets them out of a tough spot once again.





	Synchronization

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fabrega](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabrega/gifts).



> More from the stockpile! I played a little with an extended metaphor, and if it weren't for [fabrega](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabrega/)'s patience and ruthless editing, this would've gotten really out of hand. So, once again, I'm indebted to her excellence. 
> 
> Inspired by [THIS](https://twitter.com/kurokawa_sexles/status/794573874180460544) beautiful piece of fanart by [kurokawa_sexles](https://twitter.com/kurokawa_sexles) ♥_♥
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](http://wictorwictor.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/smarshtastic)!

They like to say that Blackwatch is a well-oiled machine. Gabe will take the compliment - though, privately, he prefers to think of his team’s success less mechanically. His team is only human; they’re liable to make mistakes, they’re unpredictable, thoughtful, clever. They’re good - the  _ best  _ \- but they’re far from perfect. Gabe values their ability to execute any plan that gets thrown at them, but he doesn’t value their skills over their humanity. It's their humanity that makes them unique, that allows them to be successful. 

With Jesse, it’s even more important. He spent years with Deadlock, dehumanized, valued only for what he could bring to the table. He was special, sure - he had standing in the gang, he had skills that few others could hope to mimic. But, most days, he wasn’t treated much better than a hired gun; he was a kid, and they were liable to take advantage. Thinking was discouraged. Jesse suffered, with Deadlock. In Blackwatch, he bloomed. Gabe saw his broken spirit, and nurtured it with patience and respect. Jesse grew into his humanity, became his own man - independent, free. Gabe cherished it. He fell in love with the man Jesse became. 

Gabe slips with Jesse through the enemy’s warehouse, mirroring his movements, well-choreographed and perfectly timed. Together, they’re the very best Blackwatch has to offer. With Jesse, it’s a dance that comes easily, instinctively. They’ve worked side by side for years by now. The motions come to them as naturally as breathing. They don’t even have to think about it. If one of them loses the rhythm, the other improvises seamlessly, never skipping a beat. It’s like nothing Gabe had ever experienced in either his professional or personal life - and he treasures it. 

Their coordination is what gets them through even the toughest, most complicated of missions. They pull the team together in the face of certain failure and have always come out the other side, mostly unscathed. It shouldn't work as well as it does. Gabe tries not to be too  _ romantic _ about it, but what he and Jesse have is undeniably special; like they were built for each other, perfect complements. Two halves of a whole. 

“Left,” Jesse says, voice barely above a whisper. Gabe nods once and Jesse slips off, moving soundlessly between crates. Gabe takes a moment to appreciate his movement; nobody would guess from looking at him, but Jesse can be as stealthy as anyone on the Blackwatch strike team. He’s  _ good _ at it too - not at all bullish or brash on missions, light on his feet, a consummate professional. 

Gabe slips off to the right, mirroring Jesse’s path down the other side of the warehouse. He doesn’t have to see Jesse to know that they’re both going through the same movements with well-practiced ease: scouting the location of the weapons, placing the charges, setting the timer, then sliding back around to the rear entrance. Jesse gets there just as Gabe does; perfectly timed. 

“Charges set,” Jesse says. Gabe offers Jesse a brief smile. 

“Let’s move -”

An explosion rocks through the building. Jesse and Gabe duck down in unison, looking back to where they had come from; it wasn’t their charges that exploded. They were supposed to have more time than this. They lock eyes, both of them drawing their guns. 

“Go,” Gabe says. 

Jesse steps forward, gun raised, while Gabe covers his back. They step in tandem with deadly purpose, heading down the center of the warehouse towards the blast. The air is full of dust and smoke but they press onward. 

Thugs appear through the cloud of debris - seven, maybe eight of them. They’re about as surprised to find Gabe and Jesse there as Gabe and Jesse are surprised to see them. These aren’t the people that Blackwatch were after, but it looks like Gabe and Jesse are getting an added bonus today; bad guys inevitably have more enemies. Jesse steps left while Gabe steps up to his right. They open fire. 

The sound of Gabe’s the shotgun booms between the staccato of Jesse’s pistol.  Four of the thugs fall immediately - too surprised to react to the gunfire. The rest surge forward over their fallen comrades, going for Gabe and Jesse with fists and guns. Gabe pivots and Jesse ducks, lashing around around Gabe to shoot one of the thugs in the knee. The thug goes down, tripping up another that Gabe pushes backwards before he puts a bullet in the man’s chest. Gabe and Jesse end up back to back as more thugs pour out of the smoke. 

The timer on their charges ticks down in Gabe’s mind. They don't have a lot of time. 

Gabe catches the look in Jesse’s eye; he knows it too. Jesse gives Gabe a short nod and then peels off, throwing himself into the oncoming thugs. Gabe gives him one second, then two - he sees a fist connect with Jesse’s face and then he lunges forward after him. He yanks the thug away from Jesse so they can shoot him; Jesse first, then Gabe, both of them confirming the kill before moving on. Gabe drops the body on the floor and swings around to meet the next one. They push forward, deeper into the smoke and dust. Gabe can't see Jesse anymore, but he can feel him - always an arm’s length away. He can hear him, too: the sharp exhale when he throws a punch, the little whoop of laughter when he fires his pistol, the pained grunt when he takes a blow. Gabe adjusts and responds in kind, every inch of his being tuned to Jesse, an invisible lifeline between them. 

A fist comes out of the smoke and collides with Gabe’s chest. It's disorienting - it makes him stumble. For a moment, he loses Jesse in the chaos. He tries to blink the stars out of his eyes, turning to find him in the fight again. Gabe takes a step toward him - and then there's another explosion. 

Not their charges, but close by. Too close. Gabe's ears ring with the blast and this time he loses Jesse for real - he can't see through the smoke, he can't hear from the explosion. He reaches out but he can’t find him. Gabe turns on the spot. 

They're out of time. 

Gabe moves because he has to, even though it feels wrong. His heart beats without a melody, skipping notes. Gabe can do this by himself - had done it by himself for years before he met Jesse. He presses forward, clearing thugs out of his way, taking the path to the front of the warehouse because there’s no time to get back to the rear entrance. Through the smoke, he sees his way out - but there's no Jesse in sight. Gabe swallows around the lump in his throat. 

Behind him, the charges Gabe and Jesse set detonate in perfect sync. 

The force of the blast sweeps Gabe off his feet and sends him flying out of the warehouse. He lands on his back, skidding to a stop against some crates. Gabe blinks up at the sky, watching ash and embers swirl through the air. He's trying not to let the worry clench around his heart. He can't hear anything but the ringing in his ears. He makes himself sit up, even though it hurts. The warehouse is a shambles, smoking, nearly flattened. 

He doesn't see Jesse. 

Gabe picks himself up off the ground, not bothering to dust himself off. He limps around the side of what’s left of the building, keeping a sharp eye out, his shotgun poised to fire. He doesn't see any thugs - there's no movement in the warehouse except the flames that are licking up the remains of illegal weaponry. Gabe keeps going, forcing himself forward even though he's afraid of what he might find. His heart beats in his throat, shrill, urgent. 

Gabe makes his way to the back of the warehouse, which seems to be in worse shape than the front. More of the blast was focused here, with debris scattered across the industrial yard. Gabe picks his way through the rubble, carefully, keeping an eye out. He still can't hear properly. He wiggles a finger in his ear and scans the wreckage. A movement and a flash of red cloth catches his attention out of the corner of his eye. Gabe turns toward it: Jesse. 

Stumbling over his own feet and debris, Gabe crosses the short distance to where Jesse is sitting, injured, propped up on a crate. He's fumbling with the red bandanna around his neck, trying to get it free. Gabe crouches in front of him, reaching up to grip his shoulders with both hands. Jesse's bleeding along his hairline and he blinks sluggishly at Gabe before he breaks out into a grin. There's blood on his teeth. Gabe finds himself returning the grin. 

“Gabe,” Jesse says - or that's what Gabe thinks he says. He still can't quite hear him, but Gabe can recognize his name on Jesse’s lips. 

“You hurt?” Gabe asks. Jesse lifts one shoulder in a shrug. 

“Not bad,” Jesse says, then says something else that Gabe can't quite make out. He reaches up and wipes some blood off Gabe’s forehead. He shows Gabe his fingers. Gabe shrugs it off. 

“I'm okay,” Gabe says. “Glad you are.”

Jesse says something but Gabe’s never been the one who is the expert at reading lips. He raises a hand to his ear. 

“Busted ear drum, I think,” Gabe says. Jesse blinks then nods. He fishes his comm out of his pocket and holds it up, a questioning look in his eye. Gabe nods. “Extraction?”

“Yeah,” Jesse says. He calls their ride while Gabe looks back at the smoldering warehouse. The flames are looming higher, casting them in an orange glow. He looks at Jesse again - he meets his eye as he hangs up the comm. Jesse smiles again, ducking his head. Gabe grins. He can't take his eyes off Jesse. 

=-=-=

Back at the base, the medics patch Gabe and Jesse up and give them orders to rest, to take it easy for a couple days. They won't have to report in until morning, so they go their separate ways as they're used to doing - they’re still careful not to give too much away, to dance around the line of propriety. Maybe they can never let their guard down. But, they make it work. Gabe has barely taken off his shoes when Jesse lets himself into his room. 

“Hey,” Jesse says, hanging back by the door. He gestures to his ear. “All good?”

“Patched right up,” Gabe says. He sits on the edge of his bed. “Sore, but. You know how it is.”

Jesse comes closer, as if to see for himself. He stands between Gabe’s legs, sliding his hands under Gabe’s jaw and tipping his face up towards Jesse’s. Gabe closes his eyes briefly, relishing Jesse’s gentle touch. When he opens his eyes, he finds Jesse studying his face. After a moment, Jesse leans down the rest of the way and presses a warm kiss to Gabe’s mouth. 

Gabe melts into it. He lets the tension go out of his shoulders and gives himself into Jesse’s capable hands. There are few people that Gabe would trust to lead him - actually, at this point, he’d be hard pressed to name anyone other than Jesse. Jesse’s hands press his shoulders back to the bed and he swarms up over Gabe, pressing kisses over his mouth and jaw and neck. 

“That was close,” Jesse says against his skin. Gabe lets his eyes slip closed again. 

“It was,” Gabe says. Jesse rests his forehead against Gabe’s collarbone, letting his breath out in a little sigh. Gabe pulls him back up to kiss him. “We’re okay.”

“Yeah,” Jesse says, pulling away to hold himself over Gabe. 

“You want to sleep?” Gabe asks. Jesse hesitates. “We should at least try.”

“Yeah. Probably a good idea.”

Jesse gets himself up and off Gabe carefully - overly carefully, still evidently worried about hurting him, even though the SEP modifications and Dr. Ziegler have done their jobs. He kicks off his shoes, shucks his pants and shirt. Gabe does the same before he wiggles up the bed and pulls back the blankets, making room for Jesse. He makes note of Jesse’s bumps and bruises as Jesse lies down; they’re faded, mostly, but Jesse doesn’t have the advantage of real SEP treatments. The bit of Gabe’s blood the flows in Jesse is just barely a helping hand, but it reassures Gabe to know that it's there. Gabe scoots in close once Jesse’s lying down. 

“Okay?”

“Better now,” Jesse says, wrapping his arm around Gabe and pulling him in closer. 

“Ridiculous,” Gabe says, but there’s no venom in his voice. Jesse chuckles, bending slightly to press a kiss into Gabe’s curls. Gabe settles with his head pillowed against Jesse’s chest.  The steady drumbeat of Jesse’s heart taps a soothing rhythm into Gabe’s sore ear. He closes his eyes. The panicked cacophony of the mission fades into a distant memory, drowned out by the familiar sound of Jesse’s heart. Strong. Comforting. He’s probably imagining it, but it feels like his own heartbeat is syncing up with Jesse’s, finding their melody again. Whatever it is Gabe is feeling, it feels right. 

Jesse makes a sound deep in his chest. 

“Love you, Gabe,” Jesse says, sleep already creeping into his voice, the exhaustion getting the better of him. Gabe turns his head a little, pressing his face into Jesse’s chest and smiling. 

“Love you too, Jesse.”

Gabe drifts off, letting the steady, soothing rhythm of Jesse’s heartbeat lull him to sleep. 


End file.
